


Nothing At All

by Yesimawriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Feels, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious, Pining, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Swearing, UST
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2018-12-15 17:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11811084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yesimawriter/pseuds/Yesimawriter
Summary: Harry knows that going back to Hogwarts after the war for further education might be a bit difficult and things might get a little complicated, but when the first living beings he interacts with are a mermaid and Draco Malfoy, he knows that he's fucked.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at trying to write a Harry Potter fic and a drarry one so I sincerely hope you guys enjoy reading it.

Harry fucking Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World and The Chosen One, was fucking exhausted. He was tired and a mess and currently dragging his luggage down the stairs that lead to the Slytherin dorms.

Students like Harry, who were back for further education at Hogwarts, were made to stay in the Slytherin dorms because apparently their dorms had been found surprisingly empty. Ever since the end of the war, the Professors at Hogwarts were trying their best to bridge the great divide between the various houses but mostly between the Slytherins and the Gryffindors.

Hogwarts had taken up the idea of further education from the muggle system of going to university, getting a bachelor’s degree and graduating in whatever topics the students might be interesting in. The school had decided to change its system after the war, wanting for all of its student to be better educated and skilled at whichever profession they wished to choose.

So here he was, Harry fucking Potter, a powerful fucking wizard, dragging his luggage down to the basement with his wand stuffed in his robes in a way that made it feel like it was lodged uncomfortably against his ribs. He felt frustrated and pouring all of that frustration out onto his battered luggage bags felt like the best way to let it happened.

Ron and Hermione were going to show up the next morning since they were out enjoying their holidays, and whilst Harry had fleetingly thought about showing up with them, he had felt that it would be best to get settled the day before. McGonagall was at The Great Hall with the younger years students giving them a speech and taking care of the sorting ceremony. Harry had been informed that all of the students who were there for their further studies were going to be getting a similar speech the next day morning. Hence most of the student and Harry’s friends were going to be arriving then, and as far as Harry was aware he seemed to be the only student who had turned in advance.

Harry came to a stop and bitterly spat out the password to enter the Slytherin lair. As he pulled his luggage bags into the common room, he froze at the scene that he saw in front of him, his heart almost stopping.

The Slytherin common room was incredibly huge and decorated with rich ornaments and expensive furniture probably to make all of the Slytherins feel at home. Whilst three sides of the room were covered with green wallpaper, the one that Harry was currently staring at with something akin to shock was all transparent glass. It revealed the underneath of The Great Lake. But that wasn’t what shocked him.

The fact that there was a mermaid swimming alarmingly close to the glass surface that was meant to protect the Hogwarts students didn’t shock him either. He knew of these sea creatures. He’d studied about them but never seen one in real life. Still, it wasn’t the mermaid that had captured his attention or immediately grabbed his focus.

It was the figure with platinum blond hair that was facing the glass that had him really looking. Harry observed the figure from one side and could faintly make out the tapping motion that he made against the glass, his eyes fixed on the mermaid floating in front of him. It was as if, Harry mused, _almost_ as if the figure was somehow trying to communicate with the mermaid via the tapping. Harry’s jaw almost dropped when he saw the mermaid visibly tapping on the glass just a second later, as if communicating right back at him and proving Harry’s point in the process. Then she went ahead and looked straight at Harry, maintaining eye contact with him for a few seconds, where Harry promptly forgot how to breathe, before concentrating back on the blond boy.

Harry let out a _whoosh_ of breath, wide-eyed, until he heard someone clear their throat and looked in the direction of the blond boy just in time to be assaulted by the grey of his eyes. The boy was glaring at him, curiously and a little impatiently, with an irritated look on his face.

 “Potter,” he said, his tone cautious yet somehow still polite.

“Draco,” Harry managed to rasp out after a bit of silence.

“What are you doing here? Who gave you the password to our common room? Was it Astoria again because I swear to-”

“No. _No._ It was Professor McGonagall.” Harry answered.

Draco gaped at him, _“What?!”_

“She put all of us older students in the Slytherin dorms.” Harry explained, his eyes sliding over to the mermaid. She seemed to be patiently listening in on their conversation although he doubted she could hear, let alone understand most of it.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Draco groaned dramatically dropping his head and letting it hit the glass with a slight ‘thump’.

“Nice to see you again too, Malfoy,” Harry replied, as he started to carry his bags, but something stopped him.

He heard a snort from Malfoy and before he could even process what he was doing, he was staring again.

He stared as the mermaid tapped something onto the glass and Malfoy murmured a “shut up” to her. She seemed to look over at him and make a giggling sort of motion. This made Harry finally drop his bags completely and walk towards both the sea creature and Draco Malfoy, whilst simultaneously rolling his eyes.

“What are you doing?” Harry dared to ask, stopping beside the boy.

Malfoy only spared him a side-glance. “What does it look like I’m doing, Potter? I’m drowning in despair, of course.” Draco proceeded to cover his eyes with an arm to complete the image of his ‘drowning in despair’.

Harry snorted. “I meant with the mermaid. You’re talking to her aren’t you, with the taps,” he said, giving the glass a single tap to show what he meant.

Draco finally straightened up, turning to Harry with the full intensity of those grey eyes. Harry had always been able to handle his gaze as it had always been accompanied with an overconfident smirk and some sort of a scathing remark to trigger his anger. In the last two or three instances when it hadn’t, Harry had found himself unable to look into those eyes or unable to look away, feeling a thousand different emotions tearing at him. This time wasn’t any different.

He couldn’t make himself look away, and when he did, it was to absent-mindedly look at the way Draco’s soft hair fell over his eyes and how it was just a little way away from being long enough to touch his shoulders.

Harry contemplated on if he’d like Draco having shoulder-length hair or prefer to have Draco cut it short. Somehow the thoughts of a messy, short-haired Draco greatly pleased him.

“Huh,” Draco spoke up after a long moment of intense gazing at Harry, “I guess you aren’t as oblivious as I had first considered you to be.”

Harry was only too ready to respond to him harshly, but a tap on the glass in front of him, startled him. He looked up ahead to see the mermaid wearing a small smile on her face and waving at him. Harry almost reflexively smiled and waved back at her.

“Hey,” he said, nudging Draco, “How do I say ‘hi’ to her?”

Draco blinked at him, “You want to know how to say hi to her? _Just say hi!”_

The mermaid seemed to know what Draco had said to Harry and now her attention was focused on him as she tapped something at him. Draco turned his glare on her and tapped back instantly.

“I meant how do I _tap_ ‘hi’ to her?” Harry continued, ignoring the little conversation that Malfoy and the mermaid seemed to be having. “I want to learn.”

Draco sighed. “Of course you do,” he said and the next second, proceeded to knock on the glass two times. “That’s how you say hi.”

Harry copied Malfoy’s taps and then looked up at the mermaid who seemed delighted. “I think she likes me,” he said with a grin.

“She likes anyone that wants to talk to her,” Draco said, but Harry ignored him, having found something more interesting than their years old rivalry to latch onto.

“Teach me how to tap out my name?” He asked.

Draco shifted closer and tapped once then paused and then tapped on the glass twice. Harry looked at the mermaid, pointed to himself, tapped ‘Harry’ and then waited for a second before pointing at her.

The mermaid gave a nod of her head then looked over at Draco as if for confirmation. Draco sent out a series of taps which resulted in the mermaid emphatically nodding her head, pointing to herself and getting closer to Harry and the glass to tap something out.

Harry looked over at Draco, who was watching him now, for guidance. “What did she say? What does that mean?”

“She says that her name is Arabelle.”

“Arabelle,” Harry said, keeping his eyes on the mermaid, “It’s a beautiful name.” He suddenly addressed Draco, “Can you tell her I said that?”

Draco groaned and seemed to be thinking up the most effective way to murder Harry as he tapped out the message on the glass. Harry felt amazed at Arabelle’s reaction. He hadn’t known that mermaids could blush. How would that even work underwater?

Arabelle’s quick movements brought Harry back to the present and he saw her tapping out some sort of a complex pattern before rushing away.

“What was that?” Harry questioned.

Draco was still staring after Arabelle. “She said she had to go. She couldn’t stay out here past curfew.”

“Wait. There’s a curfew for mermaids?”

“Supposedly, yes,” Draco said.

“Well I guess I have a lot to learn about them then.” Harry spoke more to himself.

“You do.” Draco replied in a tone of finality that indicated the end of the conversation.

“Well, it was nice talking to you Draco. Thank you,” Harry genuinely said. He didn’t know why but he always felt like it was easier to talk to Draco without getting into a fight when they were both alone.

It probably also had something to do with the fact that he didn’t feel any sort of negative emotions towards the blond anymore. Maybe that was why it was much easier to recognize the positive feelings he felt around him now.

“It was nice talking to you too, Potter.” Draco said, with a nod in his direction.

As Harry picked up his bags and walked towards their dorm rooms, he thought about the fact that there would be a private dorm room for each of the students. Maybe he should’ve let the sorting hat put him in Slytherin in the first year because having a whole room to him sounded like a gift from god himself.

Before he could exit the common room however, he heard Draco calling out to him. “And thank you to you too… for everything.” And then Draco was gone. He’d walked straight out of the common room and hadn’t even let Harry utter a word.

Harry just stared after him, remembering how Draco had looked earlier, standing near the glass. A small ray of sunshine had escaped from somewhere to shine on Draco, making him look like an angel. _An angel._

_Angel._

Fuck. Harry was fucked.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day morning, Harry was back in the common room leaning against the transparent glass and staring out into the murky depths of the Great Lake. There was nobody there to bother him and he’d realised sometime last night that there was something relaxing about this activity. He understood what Draco had been doing standing there yesterday.

“Ah, Potter,” he heard the familiar voice speak to him. It was as if Draco had known that Harry had been thinking about him, and he’d decided to show up just to spite him. “If you are expecting to see Arabelle then I’m afraid you won’t get your wish. She mostly swims by during the late evenings. Even I very rarely get blessed with her presence this early in the morning.”

Harry turned around to look at Draco. He was wearing his house robes but he seemed to have lost a layer or two of clothing, probably because it was relatively warm here as compared to the rest of the school. That certainly came as a surprise to Harry who had been expecting the place to be quite cold despite having already been here once.

“Well, that’s a shame.” Harry murmured walking over to sit on the couch that Draco stood beside.

“Indeed,” Draco agreed and, to Harry’s complete surprise, sat down next to him.

They just sat there in silence for a few minutes, both the boys struggling to find some way to break the silence.

“It’s nice to finally see you getting along with some type of magical creature,” Harry managed to say at last, a grin on his lips. At Draco’s questioning gaze, Harry continued, his grin widening. “Remember the hippogriff incident.” It was surprising how, now that a few years had passed since then, he could look back at the whole Buckbeak incident and just  _laugh._

Draco narrowed his eyes at that and Harry could tell that he was trying to hide a smile. “It actually hurt me, you wanker,” Draco said, knocking Harry’s shoulder playfully with his own.

“What?” Harry asked, confusedly, even as he laughed at the offended expression on Draco’s face.

“That hippogriff actually _did_ hurt me, Potter” Draco huffed out, looking away from him. Harry ceased to laugh. “It left a scar too.”

Harry’s jaw almost dropped. He hadn’t thought that Draco had really been that seriously hurt, he’d believed, just like everybody else, that Malfoy had been exaggerating. “You’re joking.”

Something akin to anger flashed in Draco’s grey eyes for a hint of a second before it was gone. He pulled up the sleeve of his robes to reveal his pale skin and Harry immediately spotted the thin silver scar that ran across the side of his arm. As he pulled the robe back down, his voice came out quiet and cold, “Still think I’m lying, Potter?”

Harry opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to get his voice to work and for sound to come out of his throat, but none came. He couldn’t stop staring at Draco’s arm, at the place the scar ran through, which was now covered by Draco’s robes. “I didn’t-I never-” Harry didn’t know what to say, he never would in situations such as this one as he hadn’t exactly been taught to by anybody. So he did the only thing he could. Since Draco had shown him a scar, it was only fair for him to show one back.

“Here,” he offered his hand to Draco who scoffed in response, “hold it.”

Draco simply continued to stare at his hand and then looked right up at him, lips tilting into a familiar sneer. “So are we going to be holding hands now just because I showed you my scar, Potter? Does this mean that we get to sing lullabies to each other, read each other bedtime stories and braid each other’s hair?”

“No, Malfoy, for-just-” Harry frustratedly turned his hand over so that it was palm up in Draco’s, then he pointed to the scar that went diagonally across his palm. “I got this one when we were camping out in the woods trying to hunt for the Horcruxes.” Draco kept alternating between looking down at the scar and up at Harry. “It was horrible,” Harry shuddered as he thought of those times, “and most of that time is a blur but I remember that I was in charge of getting us something to eat. I don’t remember who was with me, Ron or Hermione, or what happened exactly but we were all extremely tired and hungry and I somehow ended up slicing my palm open on the very sharp thorns of some plant.”

Harry looked up to see Draco swallowing heavily at that, his hand almost cupping Harry’s. “Potter,” he said softly, with an underlying emotion that Harry couldn’t recognize, and slowly slid his hand out from under Harry’s. “I have many more scars to show, as I’m sure you do too.” Harry nodded his head in confirmation as Draco let his gaze wander up from Harry’s palm into his eyes. He let those grey eyes bore into him again, trembling slightly under the intensity of the emotions that he felt because of them.

As Draco suddenly stood up, grabbing a hold of his bag and hitching it up one of his shoulders, Harry tried to hide the surprise and the disappointment he felt at seeing Draco just leaving him like that. He tried to tell himself that he was being dramatic and that Draco wasn’t _leaving him._ He was probably hungry and going to get breakfast. _But I really thought that we were getting somewhere, and he looked like he was about to say something important._

In that moment, Harry was sure that Draco must have heard his thoughts because he stood in front of Harry, not leaving yet, and said, “I look forward to seeing all of your scars, and showing you all of mine.”

The way that Draco had said those words left Harry breathless, but he managed to catch up with Malfoy before he could leave this time. Draco had said it as if it was something so private and intimate, as if it would almost be an honour to show the scars and talk about them and to _share them_ with one another. Harry couldn’t agree more.     

It was that thought that made Harry sprint towards him, and grab Draco’s wrist to turn him around. As they both stood facing each other, Harry replied with a “Me too, Draco. Me too” And somehow as they gazed into each other’s eyes, they knew that neither of them had meant just the physical scars, they were talking about _all of them._

_"I want to know about your scars too, Draco. I want to get to know all of you.”_


	3. Chapter 3

_“I want to know about your scars too, Draco. I want to get to know all of you.”_

Draco’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening at Potter’s words. He knew from the expression on Potter’s face that he hadn’t expected to say that out loud. In fact, Draco was willing to bet all of the money in his Gringotts account that Potter hadn’t even meant _to think_ that to himself.

It wasn’t Potter’s words that scared him the most though, he was used to Potter’s ability to render him speechless with just a few words, or sometimes even just a look or a gesture. Sometimes, Potter’s ability to get to Draco, to make him _feel_ , scared him so immensely that all he could do was try to cover it up with a quick, sarcastic retort and then walk away a winner with his head held high.

After what Potter had just said, not even that scared him anymore, what scared him was the thought of how he was supposed to respond to that. _How could he possibly respond to that?_ “Potter I-” Draco’s voice hitched slightly and he swallowed the bile rising up his throat, trying to calm himself. It didn’t work.

He needn’t have been afraid, however because the next second, Potter let go of his wrist with a look of horror on his face. “I-I need to go. Ron and Hermione are probably waiting for me.” Just like that, Potter was gone before Draco had even registered his words.

Draco stared at the empty spot where Potter had stood moments ago, bitterly. Of course Potter regretted saying those words to Draco. He probably regretted spending time with him too. It was a good thing really, that Potter had finally come to his senses. Now he would hopefully let Draco be and not interfere with his daily routine.

As Draco let out a deep sigh, he wondered how he could’ve been stupid enough to think that things could change, that things between _him_ and _Potter_ could change. So what if they had exchanged a few friendly words without hexing each other’s balls off and so what if they had thanked each other and shown each other their scars?

Draco didn’t _care_. It didn’t _mean_ anything.

And it changed _nothing_.

_“I want to know about your scars too, Draco. I want to get to know all of you.”_

Nothing at all.

* * *

 

Harry ran up the stairs as fast as he could. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ He was fucked. What had he been thinking saying something like that to Draco? They weren’t even friends yet, for Merlin’s sake! _But you don’t want to be just friends with him do you?_

_“I want to know about your scars too, Draco. I want to get to know all of you.”_

Harry groaned, leaning against the wall outside the Great Hall, his head in his hands. “I don’t want to be just friends with him,” he murmured to himself, and then shook his head with a self-depreciating laugh, “Oh, I am so fucked.”

 “Harry!” His head shot up at hearing his name being called by a familiar voice and a smile spread across his face at seeing his two best friends walking towards him holding each other’s hands. It had been Hermione who had called out his name.

“Hermione, Ron,” he greeted them both with a tight hug. He hadn’t seen them for over a month and had missed them a lot more than he had expected to.

“How have you been, mate?” Ron asked, patting him on the shoulder as he pulled away from the hug.

“Well, you know that I’ve been helping out the Aurors deal with the aftermath of the war, and I’ve also been seeing that post-trauma war specialist that you recommended, Hermione.” Harry answered.

“She’s a witch who happens to have dealt with quite a lot of PTSD patients in the past, Harry, and most of them have also been through situations similar to yours so I figured that she’d be the kind of therapist that you might need.” Hermione explained.

“She’s perfect, Hermione. Thank you,” Harry said, and he meant it. He hadn’t known if going to a therapist with all of his issues would be the right decision, but he’d booked an appointment on Hermione’s insistent and he hadn’t regretted it.

Hermione slid her free hand into Harry’s and squeezed it gently. “We’re both really proud of you, Harry. I hope you know that.”

Harry couldn’t help the genuine smile that lit up his face. “I do know that,” he said. He hadn’t even realised that they’d started walking until he pushed open the doors to the Great Hall, which was immediately flooded with silence. His eyes subconsciously tried to seek out the pale skin and platinum-blond hair in the crowd but he couldn’t spot his favourite Slytherin anywhere.

He stopped as soon as he consciously realised what he was doing. Of course Draco wouldn’t be in the Great Hall. Harry had just left him behind in the Slytherin common room hadn’t he?

Fuck.

He’d just left Draco in the Slytherin common room.

Without an explanation.

He’d practically run away from the place, from Draco. And he hadn’t even had the courtesy to tell Draco why.

Harry remembered how empty he’d felt, how hollow, when Draco had just gotten up and picked up his bag, and Harry had thought that he was just going to leave him hanging after asking about his scars, but Draco hadn’t. Instead he had stood facing Harry and continued saying what he’d wanted to say, and Harry had gotten that warm feeling in his chest that had spread throughout his whole body. He’d practically jumped off of the couch and run faster than ever to tell Draco that he felt the same way.

_“I want to know about your scars too, Draco. I want to get to know all of you.”_

And then he’d fucked up by saying too much _and then_ he’d run away and now he was just standing there, in the Great Hall, remembering the look of complete shock on Draco’s face. Draco had been about to say something before Harry had panicked and blurted out some stupid excuse to get away from him.

_He’d said “Potter I-”_

Potter I- _what?_

Potter I feel the same fucking way? Potter I think you’re a stupid git and a stubborn prat and I never ever want to see your ugly face or talk to you again? Potter I am in love with you, you complete wanker?

_Potter I- WHAT?!_

Merlin, Harry had really fucked up now hadn’t he? What would Draco have thought of what he’d said and of him just leaving like that? Harry thought about what he’d felt like when he’d thought that Draco had been about to leave.

_I thought that he hated me…and it **hurt**._

Oh Merlin! Draco must think that Harry hates him, that all of the talking and friendly banter had been for nothing, and that Harry probably regretted hanging out with him. But Merlin how could Harry ever regret it when it was everything that he had wanted, dreamt of, and wondered about ever since sixth year. All he had wanted was a chance to get to know Draco, the real Draco, talk to him, and if he was honest with himself, maybe something more.

_“I want to know about your scars too, Draco. I want to get to know all of you.”_

With that thought and without another word, he ran. He ran back the way that he had come from. _Back to Draco._ There was no point in being back at Hogwarts if he didn’t do things differently this time around, and he wasn’t going to end up years later thinking about all of the possibilities and the what if’s all over again.

Because it was either this, it was either running and sprinting to get what he wanted and to have no regrets, or nothing. Nothing at all.

_“I want to know about your scars too, Draco. I want to get to know all of you.”_

_I love you, Draco. I have for a while now. I just didn’t realise it until it was almost too late and The Battle was almost over._


	4. Chapter 4

The first time Draco had felt _it_ had been in sixth year. He had been crying in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, in pain and anguish, and had looked up to see Potter’s intense green eyes trained on him. He hadn’t known what _it_ was, just that _it_ had been an overwhelming feeling, and he had mistaken it for rage and hatred, combined with his already sweltering embarrassment and humiliation. After the Sectumsempra incident, busy as Draco had been doing other things and thinking other thoughts, _it_ had been left ignored and forgotten.

The second time he had felt _it_ had been the next year when he’d seen Potter’s bruised and battered face in front of him. Potter had been kneeling in front of him and he had felt _it_ , but he had also felt ashamed. He would have ignored _it_ yet again, except it had been hard to make himself forget _it_ when he had been asked to identify Potter and Potter had looked at him. Draco had felt _it_ so intensely, that it had taken weeks for the feeling to fade. He had ignored the feeling then, but he had acknowledged it too. This time, he hadn’t forgotten.

It was during the Fiendfyre incident that he realised what _it_ really was. That was when he finally had a name for _it_ and he could label _it_ and he wished that he couldn’t, that he wouldn’t. The war was still raging on, and he wished that he could’ve stayed in denial for just a bit longer, at least until the war had ended and Voldemort was dead.

The fourth time, he didn’t have the strength to push it away or deny himself the feeling. He wasn’t prepared for it, and even if he had been, he was too exhausted and tired to actually do anything about it. It was when Voldemort had announced that Harry Potter was dead, and Draco hadn’t really been fully convinced until he’d seen Hagrid carrying Harry out of the Forbidden Forest behind him, that was when Draco had let the full extent of _it_ hit him.

He was in love with Harry Potter. _He was in love with bloody Saint Potter._

So when Potter had come alive in Hagrid’s arms, Draco hadn’t even thought about it. He’d sprinted across the lawn, away from his parents, away from safety and security, and towards Potter and Voldemort, and he had thrown him his wand. This time, he had saved Potter… solely for himself. He always had been selfish that way.

* * *

 

_« Demain, dès l’aube, à l’heure où blanchit la campagne,_

_Je partirai. Vois-tu, je sais que tu m’attends._

_J’irai par la forêt, j’irai par la montagne._

_Je ne puis demeurer loin de toi plus longtemps._

_Je marcherai les yeux fixés sur mes pensées,_

_Sans rien voir au dehors, sans entendre aucun bruit,_

_Seul, inconnu, le dos courbé, les mains croisées,_

_Triste, et le jour pour moi sera comme la nuit._

_Je ne regarderai ni l’or du soir qui tombe,_

_Ni les voiles au loin descendant vers Harfleur,_

_Et quand j’arriverai, je mettrai sur ta tombe_

_Un bouquet de houx vert et de bruyère en fleur. »_

 

As Harry burst into the common room, mentally preparing his apologetic speech to Draco, he was stopped short by the soft words being spoken in a foreign language. His breath caught in his throat at the beauty of the voice and the way that it spoke, the words filled with so many emotions that Harry couldn’t help but marvel at it.

It was of course Draco who was softly speaking out the poem, the words falling from his lips as if they belonged there and could never belong anywhere else. Harry didn’t want him to stop, he wanted to keep listening, and let Draco continue speaking in the language that he had made sound so beautiful. He wanted to kiss the lips that those words were coming out of. Lips so soft and smooth and pink and perfect. Harry needed to _stop_.

Draco was sitting on the couch facing Harry, but his attention was on the book that he was holding.  After a few seconds of silence had prevailed, Harry decided that he’d done enough observing. It was time to take action, and by action he did not mean kiss lips. Harry _really_ needed to stop.

“Draco,” he croaked, and then wondered why his voice always came out like that. How could he even try to compete with Draco’s silky smooth voice when he sounded like a fucking bullfrog?

As Draco caught sight of him, Harry practically saw his walls building up and his Malfoy mask fitting tightly into place. “Potter,” he started with an almost sneer, which was what urged Harry to interrupt him.

“I’m sorry,” Harry quickly apologised, and saw Malfoy falter slightly, his mask coming a little undone.

“For what?” Draco asked, looking up at Harry from his seated position on the couch. Harry didn’t realise that he was moving closer to Draco until his foot hit the bottom of the couch.

“For running away earlier.” Harry took a deep breath and cleared his throat. He sat down on one end of the couch, with Draco, his legs now folded up, on the other end of it. “I-I meant what I said before, and it took me by surprise, saying it out loud. That’s why I ran away.”

Harry risked a glance at Draco, but his expressions were undecipherable. He seemed to just be staring back at Harry as if lost for words. This was what gave Harry the courage to say his next words. “You were going to say something to me before I ran away. You said ‘Potter I-’. What were you going to say?”

Colour slowly filled Draco’s cheeks turning them a light red as he struggled for words, seeming flustered by Harry’s words. “I was going to tell you that I felt the same way, Potter. Also you need not apologise to me. There are quite a few things I shall need to ask you to forgive me for-”

“No you don’t.” Draco quirked an eyebrow at that, challenge in his eyes. “You don’t need to apologise to me, Draco. The past is…was. It was complicated and it happened, and I’m not one of the people you need to apologise to for any of it, especially after what I did to you.”

Draco looked at him, actually blinked and looked, eyes wide and face slightly paling, with his cheeks flushing even darker. He suddenly got a hold of his emotions. “Nevertheless, I still want to take the time to apologise and to tell you that I forgive you…for everything. All of it.”

“Me too,” Harry said without losing a beat. “All of it, Draco.”

Malfoy nodded his head again, and looked at Harry a second too long, as if searching for something, before focusing on the book in his hand.

_I love you too, you reckless, selfless, oblivious git._


	5. Chapter 5

Everything had become so much more complicated after the war. Death Eaters had been captured, arrested and presented in front of the Wizengamot for their trials, lots of witches and wizards had lost their loved ones and their homes, the list went on. Harry had found himself extremely busy trying to help the Aurors as much as he could. He had declined the offer to go back to Hogwarts along with Ron, not just to complete his eighth year but also to give their exams. He was sure that both he and Ron were more than qualified for the Auror jobs that were waiting for them.

No matter how busy he had been, though, Harry hadn’t forgotten about the Malfoys-Draco and Narcissa and Lucius and _Draco._ He hadn’t attended Lucius’ trial but he knew that Lucius had helped in the capture of the rest of the Death Eaters and had offered to give any more help that was needed. This had helped in getting him a much lighter sentence than he would have otherwise gotten. Instead of going to Azkaban, his sentence was reduced to house arrest, which was confined to their property, for his entire life. Harry personally thought that this was quite a generous decision by the Wizengamot, and was quite satisfied with it because the thought of breaking up the Malfoy family just didn’t sit right with him.

He had kept a close watch on the Malfoys’ on goings and had personally spoken for Narcissa at her trial. For Draco, he had met with him beforehand to give him his wand and had reassured him of the fact he would speak for him and help him as much as he could. He didn’t know why he had felt the intense need to be there for Draco, but he did remember the feeling of dread that had washed over him when Draco had looked him in the eyes. Those grey eyes which had always been alight with fury, hatred, anger or mirth had now been dimmed down, and the pain that Harry had felt when he had realised this had been unbearable.

It wasn’t necessary to mention that Draco had been declared a free man and Narcissa had been sentenced to a year of house arrest. It also wasn’t necessary to mention that Harry had fought hard and fast to get Draco that freedom. He had felt a small sense of victory each time he had seen Draco nod in agreement at the arguments that Harry had put forth, the fire slowly relighting in his eyes, and when the judges had made the final decision, the relief that had shown on Draco’s face had made Harry smile widely at him with his heart fluttering in his chest.

A few days later, he’d seen a familiar owl arriving at the Burrow and had heard identical gasps of _‘Malfoy?!’_ as the inhabitants of the house had read Draco’s apologies and had been surprised at how personalized the letters had been. Draco could have sent formal apologies as had been expected from him, but not only had he given a personalized letter to everyone, it had also been handwritten. Harry had seen the tears in Hermione’s eyes, the softness in Ron’s features and the slight hint of a smile on Ginny’s face and he’d known that the Weasleys had all forgiven Draco and the Malfoys in general for all of their wrongdoings. Even George had cursed at Draco for being so easy to forgive; now he couldn’t even hold a grudge against the Malfoys properly.

Not only had he done that, but Draco had also helped profusely in the reparations of Hogwarts. Harry had tried to convince himself that Draco wasn’t the only reason that he regretted not going back to Hogwarts to complete his last year, Hermione had gone back to complete her whole year. Also, it wasn't as if Draco hadn’t been there the whole year; he had only gone back to give all of the required exams for their final year. Harry was adamantly refusing to accept the fact that he had come back for further education solely for that purpose, too. Surely the Aurors would want and prefer for Harry to be better educated, and it wasn’t like he was running away from them and from his other responsibilities by simply being at Hogwarts. They could all wait for Harry for another few years.

Harry had tried not to think about the fact that he was the only one who hadn’t received a letter of apology from Draco. Surely, Draco had to have had some reason for not giving Harry a letter. He had heard from everyone he knew that they had been pleasantly surprised to receive a letter from the Malfoy family, and Harry had waited and waited for his own letter but he had never received one.

This was a fact that he was now thankful for, as he sat there with Draco, because as he’d said before, Draco didn’t need to apologise to him…Harry _understood_. Besides, from what Harry had gathered, Draco _had_ wanted to apologise to him and thank him; he just hadn’t known _how_ to.

As they sat there in silence, Draco reading from his book of poems and Harry staring at the wall next to Draco whilst introspecting, he finally let his thoughts turn to Ginny. Ginny, who he’d thought he’d fancied before the war. Ginny, who had been in his thoughts but very rarely during the Horcrux hunting and even during the war. Ginny, who was the very embodiment of safety and security and felt like coming home. Ginny _was_ home, but so was Ron and so was Hermione and the whole Weasley clan. Ginny had been what he had thought he had wanted and what had been expected of him. Ginny had been simple and easy and their future would have consisted of a life of comfort and ease, and they belonged together.

But nothing as amazing and perfect as love ever came easily and love wasn’t necessarily comfortable or safe or secure. That wasn’t what love was supposed to feel like, not the passionate, intimate, romantic type at least. He loved Ginny, of course, but only in a way that was purely platonic, nothing more and certainly nothing less. He’d realised it when he had kissed her after the war.

Ginny had made him forget all of his faults and mistakes, and she had made him feel perfect and unconditionally loved, but that hadn’t necessarily been a good thing.

Harry was pulled out of his thoughts with a rough shove to his legs and looked up just in time to see Draco giving him an annoyed look. “Potter!”

“What?” Harry snapped, before blinking and noticing the way Draco raised his eyebrow in response.

“Are you going to continue staring at the wall, because I happened to be quite hungry and was wondering whether you would want to join me for breakfast?”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’d love to!” Harry hadn’t realised how hungry he was until Draco had mentioned it. “But where are we going to go? It’s too late to go to the Great Hall, now.” Not only had they missed a chance to grab some breakfast, but they had also missed out on the instructions given out by Headmistress McGonagall and whatever else they were supposed to be present up there for.

“Right,” Draco muttered, probably realising the same thing as Harry.

“Wait, I know where we can go to get some breakfast,” Harry suddenly said. He grinned at Draco’s confused expression and grabbed his hand, pulling him up.

Draco glared at Harry as he dragged him out of the common room. “Where are we going, Potter? Where are you taking me?”

“To the Kitchen.”


End file.
